


What Would Mrs Hudson Say

by sc010f



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sc010f/pseuds/sc010f
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kinkmeme, de-anonned and tidied up. <em>I want John horribly incapacitated for some reason or another -- serious illness, injury, something serious that isn't just him being pissed -- and Sherlock has to help him with every day things, like taking a shower. Gen Sherlock and John, in the shower. As IC as possible.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	What Would Mrs Hudson Say

"I can do this myself, thank you."

"The evidence suggests otherwise, John. Surely you're not that simple."

John tried to swing himself out of the bed and collapsed at the edge, nearly toppling to the floor. Sherlock caught him.

"Dammit!" John could feel the sweat beading on the small of his back. "Fuck!"

"It's natural to be frustrated."

"Oh, shut up. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course, up we go."

John hadn't suspected that Sherlock could be that gentle with other human beings. Body parts, yes (except for the time he dropped Nick-in-the-fridge out the window to gauge the height of his bounce), but actual _people_ seemed to fall outside of his tenderness purview.

But there Sherlock was, propping him up in the tub, turning on the water, clad in shorts and a vest. He held the nozzle above John's head. The water was warm, not too hot, and John tilted his head up to catch it on his face.

"Oh, God," he murmured, "that's perfect."

"Good. Can you move your arm?"

"Yeah, hang – oof – on. There."

Sherlock took the soap and flannel and eased him onto the small chair that he'd placed in the tub.

"Okay, we're going to start at the scapula – tell me if it hurts."

"Mfph, okay."

Sherlock took the nozzle and began to work gently on John's shoulders and back. When Sherlock reached his hips, John smiled.

"You're going to have to… here, let me slide you back," Sherlock said, helping John to shift.

"It's a good thing nobody can see this," he murmured to the top of Sherlock's head as he knelt between John's legs.

"See what?" Sherlock ran the flannel over his uninjured calf.

"You, kneeling between my legs in the tub. People would talk. Can you imagine what Mrs Hudson would say?"

Sherlock looked up and smiled.

"I can only infer that she would be thrilled."

John laughed, a short bark, and winced as Sherlock ran the water over a tender spot and then eased the injured leg into position.

"She'd be ordering flowers and baking a cake. We'd have to do the wedding breakfast at Speedy's," he said. "D'you think Angelo would cater the reception?"

Sherlock's answering chuckle echoed in the bathroom.

"There," he said, turning off the water and sitting back on his heels. "Done."

John smiled and Sherlock rose, holding out his hands for him to grasp. John all but collapsed into his arms.

"Thank you."

"Anything for my blogger," Sherlock replied.

"Oh, shut it," John groused. "And you're not laying out the Winne-the-Pooh shorts that Harry got me."

"Agreed," Sherlock grimaced. "They are a sartorial crime. I chucked them this morning."

"Oh, my hero."

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine, no money. Thanks to bluestocking79 and annietalbot for aiding and abetting this endeavor.


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